Transcript Transgressions
by Inks Inc
Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. When her best laid plans go dreadfully awry, Abby learns that lesson the hard way. Warning: Spanking. Gibbs/Abby - Father/Daughter
1. Chapter 1

The transcript grew heavier and heavier in her hands as she stared down at it with tears in her eyes and fearful regret in her stomach. There was no music screeching throughout the lab and Bert the Hippo lay discarded, dramatically splayed on his side. A single tear forced its way out of its watery cage and splashed upon the condemning ink. Watching it dry, Abby found her will to live seep away with it. She'd never failed a class in her entire life. Not a one. Let alone _five_ classes. Worrying her lip, she felt panic well up inside her like a straining dam. Working through the entire, wretched scenario in her head, the first of what would be many sobs ripped from her throat. Gibbs was going to kill her. It had all started so promisingly, and had ended so heinously. The Agency had initiated a new upskilling drive, targeted specifically at ancillary resources. She had been selected to receive an entirely free, intensive, six month crash course in new haematology identification methods. At NYU's Grad school no less. The only catch, it would obviously involve a leave of absence that would have to be authorised by her supervising agent.

Gibbs had been reluctant. He'd been very reluctant indeed. In fact, he'd flat out forbidden it.

He had hummed and hawed. It was too dangerous in New York, and it was too far away. The crime rates there were sky high. The student accommodation on offer was far from secure and involved a common room full of chronically drunk twenty-something's. Moreover, how would they cope without her for six months? But Abby had pleaded and wheedled with him, citing the progression in her education as being an utterly invaluable tool and how an intensive semester at NYU would be a challenge she had been lacking for a long time. After a week of near tearful pleading, he had relented. But on a series of stringent conditions. The most non negotiable being that she was to be safe and sensible at all times and that she apply herself to her fullest potential. Gibbs had warned her that she wasn't getting a six month break from work to go off and live a carefree grad school life. An initial consultation with the course head had assessed Abby's ability as an across the board A student, provided she put the work in.

They had both agreed that her grades were never to go below a B, at the very least.

That hadn't concerned Abby much, if at all at the time. She had always been an A student, with very little effort. Her intelligence was the only thing that matched her quirkiness in intensity and academics had come as naturally to her as walking. So she had squealed with joy when she'd agreed to Gibbs' conditions and flung her arms around his neck, suffocating him with glee. And then she'd arrived full of anticipation at the gates of NYU, fully expecting to rock it. Diligence had also come easy to her at school and college and so she'd had no qualms in applying herself during her short stint at grad school. But then, life had happened. Continuing to stare in horror down at her transcript, Abby couldn't quite believe just how very _hard_ life had happened. Her first week, she'd been a model student. She'd gone to every class, completed every reading. But then she'd gradually gotten to know the people in her class, the extremely likeminded people. She loved Gibbs and the team, of course she did. But besides Tim, none of them really _got_ her and how exciting she found all things science.

But it was so different at NYU.

So they'd all started hanging out. They'd started hanging out a _lot._ Somehow, along the way, classes had seemed easy to skip with all the intentions of making them up. Somehow, along the way, assignments seemed non-urgent, easily redeemable over a crash-cram weekend. Somehow, along the way, she had entirely screwed herself in a haze of late night dancing and copious, potent tequila. So much so, that when it came to finals week, she hadn't the foggiest clue of anything. Her base knowledge of haematology was far from sufficient to carry her through the intense exams and she had bombed every single one like a nuclear combustion. Of course she had known she'd flunked the course, but she still after arriving back home, held out tentative hope that she had scraped through. It had been just a week in between arriving home and the dreaded mail she clutched, but it had felt like an eternity.

Lying straight to Gibbs' face always felt like an eternal moment.

Her warning alarm system suddenly triggered and she jolted to her senses. Stuffing the transcript under a pile of files she held her breath as Gibbs himself swept into the lab, dropping a kiss on her head and a Caf-Pow into her hands. "Hey Abbs, I know it's early but any chance you got something for me? We've backed into a brick wall upstairs and if I have to confiscate one more elastic band ball from DiNozzo because he has no leads, I will take it apart and _strangle_ him with it." He paused then and seemed to just notice Abby's red face and watery eyes. He instantly cupped her chin in his hand and adopted a much more gentle tone. "Abbs? Have you been crying? What's the matter?" She looked up at him with an impossible guilt and fear icing in her veins and nodded before intending to nod, lying before intending to lie.

"What? Oh no, I'm fine. It's just…you know, that uhh time of the month, and what not."

Gibbs stared in confusion for a moment, before dropping his hand. His face took on a moderately scarlet hue as he nodded with a clearing of his throat. "Oh, yeah, ok. Of course." He looked desperately around the room for motivation before scrubbing a hand across his eyes. "Can I get you a hot water bottle?" She stared at him, wondering if it was physically possible to die from guilt and hoping that if it was, it happened quick. Shaking her head violently and hoping he would let the matter drop, a small droplet of relief dripped down when he did just that, looking just as relieved as she felt. "So, do you? Have anything for me on the case? I'm losing my mind up there." Staring blankly for a moment, Abby jerked-to. "Uhh, no. Not yet. I'm running tests now on the fibres you pulled from the trunk, but it doesn't look promising."

He nodded, having expected as much.

"Ok," he sighed. "Let me know when you have something, your friends lives depend on it." He grinned, making her sick with regret. "But no pressure." Pressing another kiss on her head and tucking her under the chin, he strode from the room before pausing in the door, stricken by a sudden thought. "Abbs, I signed for that courier mail for you. The mail kid said he'd bring it down. Was it your school results? I wanted to bring you out for a nice dinner to celebrate when you got them." Closing her eyes briefly and wishing a lightning bolt would strike her down, she made a decision that she didn't really put any thought into. Her instinct of self preservation was overriding her moral compass as he shook her head in the negative. "No Gibbs," she lied in a croaking voice, that he sympathetically attributed to her…business, "Nothing yet. I'll let you know when they arrive. But there might be no need for a celebratory dinner." She laughed then, a sort of hysterical coughing chuckle. "Maybe I failed everything, there'd definitely be no dinner then right?" Gibbs shook his head with a grin, pride blossoming in his gut as he strode out with a parting comment.

"You? Fail? C'mon Abbs, be serious. Your brains and hard work will have you at that the top of that class, you mark my words. Good hard work always pays off and I'm proud of you, kid."

….

A/N: Random two/three-shot.

….


	2. Chapter 2

There had to be a way out of this current hell. There just _had_ to be. Anything other than owning up, anything other than seeing his face when he realised the truth. That she had screwed up beyond belief and had essentially lied by omission in the process. Prowling around her apartment in the dead of night, Abby's chest was heaving with anxiety. She had been torn between charging over to Gibbs' house and screaming what had happened from the rooftops and running away to Barcelona all night long. So far, all she'd managed to do is wear a whole in her favourite rug as she marched up and down, muttering furiously with herself, arguing with herself. She saw every hour on the clock as it passed, unable to lie down in the merest contemplation of sleep. Finally passing out from sheer exhaustion alone at two in the morning, she awoke at seven from a fitful slumber. It took her a moment to remember why she felt so instinctually miserable, but when she did, she slumped back down onto her pillow with a nervous cramp forming in her stomach.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't see him again. Not today. Not with the secret that she kept.

Before she knew what she was doing her cell was in her hands and the all too familiar speed dial was being pushed. He answered on the second ring with the customary "Hey, Abbs," a little concerned she was calling so early in the morning, not expecting any sort of miracle on the case given its slow nature. Taking a deep breath and committing what she would later realise as emotional suicide, Abby crackled deliberately through her nasal passages and croaked out a verbal sick note, citing the rampant stomach bug that had indeed befallen many an NCIS staffer. Immediately offering to swing by and bring her to her doctor, Gibbs reluctantly agreed to allow one day's bed rest with plenty of fluids before frogmarching her to either Ducky or her own GP. By the time she had rung off from the call, Gibbs' concern had entered Abby's body like an airborne toxin that threatened to suffocate her where she lay.

Tears, fresh and salty, sprang up in her eyes as she slumped down and stared miserably upwards.

Just as her watery regret was about to break loose from her eyes and cascade once more down her cheeks, divine yet unholy inspiration hit her. Sitting bolt upright in the bed, her stomach knotted with the intensity of the fledgling plan as she whizzed through the pros and cons of it. Gibbs was an intelligent man, but he was about as computer illiterate as one could possibly be. NYU had divulged her transcript to her and her alone, their concern not being about who paid the bills, only that they were paid. Of course, the Director would be expecting her to report to his office sooner or later with a general outcome of her sabbatical, but he wasn't exactly the next Steve Jobs either. All she would have to do would be to create an exact replica of the transcript she had, minus the horrendous results it contained. Then, she could retake her classes online in three weeks, as the University had sympathetically offered, and ace them. It would cost her a significant chunk of her savings, but all in all, it was a price she was willing to pay if it meant not having to confess the unthinkable to her silver fox.

It would however mean lying for another six months, concealing her make-up studies.

Gnawing her lip as she pondered, Abby imagined the confusion on Gibbs' face if she were to tell him the truth. She couldn't do it. He would never need to know, she could make it right. Leaping out of the bed, she couldn't believe she hadn't experienced this particular brainwave last night. She'd been too upset to think straight she reasoned as she yanked her laptop from its bedside resting place. Sitting rigid, she worked frantically. She tweaked and finessed certain programmes, blending them together. Having long since snatched the dreaded transcript from her bag, her work of fraud took nearly two hours to craft into perfection. Looking at the finished product some time later, her hair was frizzy from the sweat coating her forehead.

But it was done. And it was perfect.

As she frantically pressed "print" on her keypad, Abby's heart suddenly sank. Transcripts from NYU didn't come on bog standard print paper. They came on thick carded A4, with the logo carefully embossed into the top centre. She bit her lip. She could replicate it, sure. But not with anything she had at home. Those sorts of tools were ensconced in her lab, guarded by Bert in her absence. Her stomach churned. She could wait till tomorrow, but she knew in her heart and soul that her gumption would be gone by then. She would wuss out and then be left with the awful reality of Gibbs giving her that _look_ that was like having the world's largest iceberg shoved down your throat.

Thinking fast, she whipped out her cell once more and bit down on her bottom lip.

Ignoring the rusty tinge of blood that seeped into her mouth, she punched out a quick message and fired it off to Tim. He would be the least likely to think anything of her inquiring as to where they physically were at the present time, thinking she was simply bored and restless at home, anxious about the case. Fresh and hot guilt splurged through her as he messaged back quickly, first and foremost expressing his concern as to her health, before telling her that they were out at a new crime scene. Feeling horrendously guilty that she had used him in such a subversive way, she sent off a nondescript reply and dashed to change into some clean clothes. If she could just get in and out before they got back, she would have the fake transcript in her possession and along with it, some semblance of peace. She would then immediately get cracking on applying for the make-up studies that would decimate her bank account and social life for the next six months.

It would all be worth it.

She told herself that over and over again as she crept through the halls of NCIS about a half an hour later. She needed to avoid every single soul that she could and so, she kept her head bowed and her gait ferocious until she successfully scurried into her lab undetected. Taking a deep and steadying breath, she began setting her fingers flying across her work computer, retrieving the email she had sent to herself. Grimacing slightly as she viewed the attachments in her NCIS email account, a work of self-flagellation as she'd labelled them "real" and "fake", she downloaded the imposter and sent it to the printer. The next thirty or so minutes later were hell on earth as she worked frantically, glancing over her should ever two minutes. Rooting in her cabinets for impressionist tools and expensive paper, she forced herself to still her trembling hands and work in precise, concerted measures. This was all for Gibbs, she reminded herself. She would ace those classes in the make-up sessions, and he would never need to be hurt. It was a win-win. It was the best solution to a difficult situation and no-one needed to be any the wiser.

By the time the printer spat out the completely finished product, it was flawless.

Thanking whatever spirits that may be fervently, she tucked the transcript into her bag with care. Closing out the applications open on her screen, she was suddenly startled by a rustling at the entrance to her lab. Her hands spasmed in fear as she wildly closed tabs, desperate to hide all evidence of her subterfuge. When the final dialogue had disappeared, she whipped her head around to find a completely lost looking intern peering in through her sealed electronic doors. "Go away!" she hollered, her fear making her positively obnoxious in that moment. "No interns allowed in here. This is an intern-free zone. Turn around and leave and never _ever_ come back!" Sandy, the timid freshman felt her eyes widen at the wildly gesticulating, screeching woman and bolted from the lab's entrance with the speed of an Olympic athlete.

Abby watched her go with a heaving chest and the now burning desire to flee.

Grabbing her bag, she darted from the lab as quickly as Sandy had and stealthily worked her way through the cavernous building. By the time she reached her car she was panting furiously and sporting a sharp stich in her side. Ramming her car into gear she screeched from the NCIS parking lot and double timed it all the way home. Galloping up her apartment building stairs she didn't pause for air until she was back in the safety of her apartment, her door triple locked behind her. Collapsing on the sofa with her prized contraband gripped tight to her chest, she let out a strangled whoop of victory. It wasn't right, it wasn't ethical but it sure as hell was a mission well completed.

Relaxation flooded through her as she closed her eyes and instantly felt the lulling pull of overdue sleep.

But little did Abby know that she ought not to be sleeping. Little did she know that she ought not to be whooping. Because in her haste, born out of fear from Sandy's arrival, her fleeing fingers had taken a bad situation and turned it into a WW3 inducing situation. She had closed her email with the speed of a lion in the midst of a hunger induced hunt, where she should have closed it with the precision of the eagle-eyed panther. As she descended blissfully into a cathartic sleep, the carnage was only beginning to unfold. Coffee in hand, Gibbs returned with the remainder of his team and settled down in front of the computer that McGee had poured his blood, sweat and tears into educating him as to the proper workings thereof. Although Tim had lamented in great detail the snail's pace of his upgrade-devoid machine, he waited patiently for it to sluggishly get its ass in gear. Having briefed the Director on the way down about their findings from today's scene, he needed to check his e-mail in the hopes that the favour he'd asked of Fornell had come through. Turns out Tobias had his own version of McGee, and between he and Tim, they were now both borderline computer literate.

"Tony, if I see you snap one more elastic band at Tim, you and I are going to take a walk."

He murmured this threat silkily as he waited for his e-mail to open, nodding his acceptance of DiNozzo's grinning apology. When the outdated programme eventually came into being, he scanned the very minimal inbox and sighed. Nothing from Fornell. About to close out of it, his eyes caught Abby's work e-mail address sporting an unread message. He frowned. He was sure he'd had a clean inbox yesterday and there was no way anyone could have accessed Abby's email account today. She had trojan protection on that thing to beat the band. Glancing at the date in the corner of the highlighted line, as Tim had painstakingly taught him to do, he saw it was indeed today's and his confusion peaked. Opening up the mail much more slowly than any normal person would do, he frowned in bewilderment at what he now saw was a forwarded message that had originated from Abby's personal e-mail account.

Two attachments blinked invitingly up at him, oddly dubbed "real" and "fake."

Assuming it was case related and hoping against hope for a break in the maddening crime they were working, he put his confusion as to Abby's work account being accessed in her absence to the side. Swigging some more coffee, he waited patiently for the "real" attachment to open. When it did, his eyes bulged in their sockets as the blunt NYU transcript shimmered up at him from the aged screen. It was Abby's. From the course he had greenlighted. It had her name and her student number. But it couldn't be _hers_ because whoever this person was had failed every single class they had taken. If he was confused before it was nothing compared to how he felt when he clicked on the "fake" attachment. It was the same transcript, only this one had undergone a miraculous make-over. This Abigail Sciuto had gone from failing every single class, to acing every single class. Feeling his mouth drop open as the two transcripts conveniently aligned themselves beside each other, presenting their differences in a glaringly obvious light, Gibbs shook his head in bewilderment.

What the hell was going on?

About to pick up the phone to call Abby on her sickbed, not relishing the idea of informing her that someone must have broken into both her NYU and NCIS accounts and done…things, his hand suddenly snatched itself away from the receiver as if burned. Clarity was beginning to shimmer through the clouds of confusion in the sharp blue eyes as a nuclear tide of emotion began to lap at his gut. The weird behaviour yesterday, the _what if I failed everything_ question, the sudden illness of today….it was all beginning to add up to a solution that sent a tongue of anger lashing through his gut. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that any sudden movements or reactions would be noticed by the diligently working boys, Gibbs tried to bring himself back under control valiantly. But it was rather like putting the genie back in the bottle and far from easily accomplished. He scrubbed a hand over his face and thought rapidly, trying to come to any other conclusion that the one he knew instinctively to be the truth. After running through endless possibilities and crossing them off one by one, he knew in his heart and soul the truth…and that was that Abby had bombed her classes because she had been, as he'd feared, screwing around instead of working hard and had hidden that fact and lied to his face about it.

A cold, dangerous anger coursed through him as the transgressions and lies mounted and mounted.

He didn't know how he was going to deal with this, but of one thing he _was_ certain.

His favourite though she may be…

Abigail Sciuto was going to rue the day she decided to pull this despicable mess over on him.

She was going to _rue_ the _day._

…..

TBC

….


	3. Chapter 3

With his mind still whirring hard the next day, Gibbs did his level best to compartmentalise. He still had a job to do, regardless of what was going on with Abby, besides, he had no idea just how in the good hell he was going to approach the whole mess. He arrived later than usual to the Navy Yard, requiring a more stringent caffeination than usual and headed straight up the stairs to Leon's office to debrief him on the state of their case. Offering only a cursory knock before barging in as he always did, he was stopped short in the thickly carpeted doorway as the sight before him melted into his eyes. Looking up, Leon arched a brow. "Well, come on in if you're coming in, Gibbs. Don't stand there and let a draft in, it's freezing out there."

She turned to look at him with an expression of shock-turned-confidence that made his stomach churn.

"Ms Sciuto here was just informing me that her NYU studies went as well as expected," Leon continued as Gibbs edged slowly into the room, snapping the door shut behind him. Holding a very familiar looking sheet of paper in the air, he smiled a rare smile. "She has excelled and done both herself and this Agency very proud. I told you it was a good idea and here's the proof." Handing the transcript back to Abby who managed a smile as she reached for it, he looked at Gibbs expectantly. "Well? Don't you have anything to say to Miss Sciuto?"

Gibbs swallowed and forced himself to remain calm.

"Well, gee, Abbs…why didn't you tell me about this? You knew I wanted to take you out to celebrate."

No-one but him would have noticed it. The paler than normal skin, the bloodshot eyes and the inability to hold his gaze. She took a deep breath and plastered a false smile on her face, minus the bouncing on the balls of her feet that occurred when she was _genuinely_ happy. "I only got them through today, Gibbs, just this morning in the mail. You were a bit later in than usual so I thought I would clue the Director here in first." She exhaled slowly as he stared at her with a relatively impassive face, before realising that two sets of eyes were on him and _one_ of those sets could be very problematic. Feeling sick, he forced himself to smile proudly and squeeze her shoulder as he scanned the page she thrust under his nose.

It was a perfect replica of the "fake" attachment he had received yesterday.

His coffee trundled unpleasantly in his stomach.

"That's a great job, Abbs. A really great job. We'll celebrate soon, ok?"

She beamed with a nod.

His veins flooded with disappointment.

The words had been like venom as they slipped past his lips, burning his mouth with their subterfuge. Had he and she been alone when Abby had presented her work of fiction to him, he didn't know how he would have reacted. But in front of Leon, despite how he currently felt about her, he had to play it cool. He saw her scan his face for any signs of suspicion and breathe out deeply in relief when she found none. For the first time in their entire relationship, his hand itched with the desire to deliver a blistering headslap. With difficulty, he resisted and forced himself to remember why he had come to the Director's office in the first place. Still smiling the forced smile, he looked over Abby's head and spoke quietly.

"Leon, I just wanted to debrief you. If you have a second?"

Delighted with the organic opportunity of escape, Abby clutched her fabricated transcript to her chest and quietly excused herself. As the door snapped shut behind her, Gibbs released a breath that was burning his windpipe in relief. He stiffly recounted the progress on their case to a patiently listening Leon, before turning on his heel and striding from the room as quickly as possible. By the time he walked into the bull pen for the first time that morning, fourth coffee in hand, it was nearly ten am. Rage seemed to build within him with every step he took and so the bellow he let out at Tony and Tim's rubber band fight was disproportionate as all hell, but he didn't even care. Slamming his way behind his desk, he glowered at his blank computer monitor with a twitch jumping in his jawline. How could she do this? How could she stand there, in the _Director's_ office no less, and lie to his face like that?

Despite all the overwhelming evidence, he'd been more than prepared to admit he was wrong.

That he'd jumped to all manner of conclusions.

But he'd seen it in her eyes. She was embroiled in one her ridiculous plans and her pupils shone with the deceit her latest stunt required. His teeth ground together painfully as he heard Leon's praise ringing in his ears. He knew he skirted the rules and bent them out of shape, but he was upfront about it. For Abby to march in there with falsified documentation and lie to the head of the food chain made his blood boil. And he knew why, too. She knew that Leon would eventually start asking questions had she not told him herself about her NYU results. Her sabbatical from NCIS had caused consternation. Cases had been slowed down, evidence had been mishandled by external labs and his blood pressure had suffered irreparable damage. But he had accepted all that, because it was for Abby's benefit, her continuing education.

And so, he had swallowed it.

But now, he could choke on it.

How had it happened? Abby was smart. Really, really smart. So why would she bomb out like she had? How could she have bombed out like she had? His mouth set into a hard line as he remembered one of the conditions he had set, that she had willingly agreed to. _No goofing off, nothing below a B._ His blood thundered in his ears. In his gut, he knew that had been her downfall. He knew her inside and out. Too worked up to even enjoy the rare quiet that drifted over from Tony and Tim's desks, he suddenly became asphyxiated with the need for answers. His chair nearly careered back off of the office divider as he sprang up and stormed from the bull pen without a backwards glance. As the elevator doors swallowed him up, Tony and Tim risked exchanging a glance and a raised brow. "What do you reckon that's about?" the SFA asked quietly, glad that the rage was at least not flooding in his direction. Feeling similar relief, Tim shrugged nervously. "I don't know, but I sure hope whoever's pissed him off _that_ much doesn't have a wife and children to leave behind."

Striding out some levels below the gossiping bull pen, Gibbs comported himself.

The only way to combat an Abby-created deception, was to be just as deceitful.

Strolling into the lab with the acquired Caf-Pow in hand, he slipped into a role of benevolence as he tapped the dancing scientist on the shoulder, indicating to turn down the screeching, wailing music that encased the room. Jumping, but recovering quickly, she did as she was bid and turned to him with a smile. "Hey, Gibbs. I don't have anything for you just yet. Can you give me another hour or so?" Returning the smile with an iceberg forming in his soul, he nodded and handed her the drink. "Not down here for results, Abbs, I just came down to congratulate you properly on your NYU results. Couldn't really talk in front of Leon, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. You really outdid yourself with results like yours. You must be delighted?"

A light seemed to flicker and die in her eyes as she forced her head to move up and down.

"Yeah, Gibbs, I'm uhh…thrilled. Thanks."

He leant against the work station she was standing at, crossed his arms across his chest and smiled a painfully proud smile down at her. "C'mon, don't be so modest. Those sorts of grades must have taken some seriously hard work? I know I said, and you agreed, that you would apply yourself to your fullest abilities…but did you have any fun out there? At all?" A red-hot poker of guilt rammed into Abby's spleen as she licked her lips and gave a jerky shake of the head. Telling herself that it would all be over in six months when she had actually passed the course, she focussed on keeping her speech patterns normal. "Not much time for fun, Gibbs. Pretty heavy work-load so…you know how it is." He nodded then, trying to ignore the personal feelings of hurt that she could lie to him so easily, so convincingly. "Aw hell, Abbs, I didn't mean for you to stay shut up the _whole_ time you were there. I hope you didn't burn yourself out with work and no play because of what I said before you left?"

She felt the will to live slowly leave her as she forced out a nervous laugh.

"Gibbs, really, I had a great time there. I just uhh…struck a balance, I guess."

A wail of anger welled up in his throat and he swallowed it back down with difficulty. Biting his lip subtly for a moment, he forced himself to appear avuncular. He had to get away from her, for the first time, he literally couldn't be around her. But she needed to sweat and he knew just how to bring that about. Standing up straight and placing a warm hand on each of her shoulders, he manufactured an expression of pride. "Abbs, I need to break one of my own rules here and apologise. I gave you such a hard time before you left for school about applying yourself and your grades. I should have known better than to even say it, there was no need. I practically accused you of lying to me about your grades before you even left D.C." His Oscar award winning performance reached a new level as he removed one hand to tuck her affectionately under the chin.

"I should have trusted you, never should have doubted you."

He stepped away then, dropping his hands and made to leave, but not before a parting comment that spurted guilt through Abby like a screaming geyser.

"I should have known that you would never lie to me. I'm sorry."

…

TBC

…


	4. Chapter 4

His living room lights were on. He was definitely home. More than likely down in the basement. Pottering for an hour or two before he hunkered down on the battered sofa for the night. It was so cold outside that her breath shimmered in front of her, her only companion. Her hand had extended towards the door knob three times, before she had chickened out at the last minute, snatching it away. Knowing that she much look positively demented to any one of Gibbs' nosy neighbours, tears shimmered in her eyes as she tried and failed to bite the bullet. The real transcript weighed as heavy as a boulder in her pocket, her ticket to absolution. All she had to do was walk in, hand it to him and allow her entire world to come crashing down.

Her hand snaked out for the fourth time.

Only to be whipped away at the very last minute.

The guilt was acidic, eating away at her intestines. She couldn't breathe with it. Couldn't see with it. She needed to get it out, to admit all. And that would be a scary prospect in most instances. Most instances being simply where Gibbs would be enraged. He was scary when he was mad, sure, terrifying at times. But she knew this was different. His dominant emotion wouldn't be rage. It would be disappointment. Disappointment and betrayal. If there was one thing that her silver fox simply couldn't abide, it was dishonesty. And she had lied. Boy, had she lied. She had let him and herself down out in New York, and lied through her teeth about it. Not only that, but she had then forged official documents in an attempt to get away with it.

The all-too familiar urge to vomit violently reared its ugly head once more.

How could she tell him? How could she bear witness to the look she knew would be in his eyes? The shock, the confusion and then the resulting crushed disappointment. The lack of trust she knew would hang over them for the foreseeable future. How could she do it? Was honesty really the best policy? Was the truth really going to set her free? Or was it just going to create a shitstorm of such epic proportions that he could never look at her the same way again? Her hand, trembling uncontrollably, reached out for the fifth time.

Only to be once again whipped away at the very last minute.

He didn't need to know. She was going to make it right and learn her lesson. This burning guilt was the worst punishment imaginable. She wasn't getting away scot free. She was going to live with the regret that threatened to crush her, and that would serve as her chastisement. He didn't need to be hurt just so she could clear her conscience. Hadn't she been selfish enough, already? What right did she have to drag him into her current cycle of hell? No right at all. Her boot clad feed suddenly sprang into action, as if sealing her decision for her, and pivoted her away from the familiar front door. With a deep breath of crisp night air, she scurried from the door. Certain in her decision. Knowing it was for the best. And thankful he hadn't seen her.

But he had.

Watching her speed down the garden path and into her vintage car, Gibbs' eyes were stormy.

As her car screeched down the road, he shook his head and slumped down onto his sofa.

Disappointment clung to him like a happily feasting leech.

The next day dawned far faster than he would have liked. For the first time that he could ever remember, he didn't want to see her. Didn't want to look her in the eye as she lied brazenly to his face. He expected some small part of him to admire her half-assed attempt to come and confess to him last night. But that small part didn't exist. Had she walked through that door and told him the straight up truth, sure, he would have been proud of her. But she didn't. She came close to doing the right thing and changed her mind, the need to cover her own ass stronger than the need to preserve the trust their relationship was built upon. Sighing, he stumbled through the motions of his morning routine until he was grouchily walking into the squad room.

It was at least, mercifully, empty.

Slugging down some coffee he had a stern word with himself, giving a self-warning that he wasn't to be sharper than he ought to be with the rest of his team, such was his frustration. They'd done nothing wrong and frankly, compared to Abby right now, they were freaking angels. The day meandered on as they worked their most recent case and heeding his own warning, he didn't take his crap out on the boys or Ziva, biting his tongue when he felt the festering annoyance spring to his lips. He had avoided it all day, but when the case hinged on forensic clarification, he had no choice. Everyone else was out working a door-to-door and interviewing. He couldn't hinder an investigation because he didn't want to see her.

That realisation hit him like a thunderbolt in the elevator.

He _didn't_ want to see her.

For the first time, ever.

Sadness seeped through him as he forced himself into the lab, no Caf-Pow in hand. Hell if she was getting anything from him but the façade it took to keep the peace. There was no music as he strolled in. She was paler than pale when she turned to him, report in hand. She looked utterly miserable. He found he didn't care. If he didn't know the reason for her despair he would have been filled with anxiety at the sight of her. As it was, he merely arched a brow.

"You have something?"

Too miserable to even notice the lack of her traditional Caf-Pow, she nodded. In a low voice, she gave him a run-down of her findings. No frills and fancies, no tangents. Nothing but the facts. He nodded his acceptance of same and made to leave with a quiet goodbye. Watching his retreating back with a leaden heart, she turned back to her computer and saw she had received an e-mail. Her stomach lurched. She had been accepted into the make-up programme at NYU, and with it, she bid farewell to a more than considerable chunk of her savings. She breathed deeply and nasally. It was a necessary evil. She would complete the course, ace it, and put the whole mess in her rudder. For now, she would just work harder than ever on their current case. Poor Gibbs, he was so tired looking. The investigation was really wearing him down. The least she could do was hold up her end of the bargain.

Upstairs, Gibbs sat and brooded.

How could she do this? His Abby? How could she stand there and give him her sit rep and continue to harbour her dirty little secret? He would never have thought her capable of it. His brow furrowed. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was so blinkered by his favourite, so enchanted by his pet…that he didn't see the real her. He'd heard the griping of Ziva and the boys, though they didn't know it. Heard their bitter complains about the chasm between the treatment they received, and the treatment Abby received. To assuage his niggling fears and perhaps cowardly so, he had written it off as the frequent bickering that swept throughout his team. Hadn't given it much credence, paid it much mind. And maybe now, that penchant for burying his head in the sand, had come back to bite him. Maybe his favourite wasn't the quirky and loveable girl with no flaws that he thought she was.

Maybe she was a spoiled, entitled and downright manipulative little madam.

He sighed. Buried his head in his hands. Why the hell was there never any peace? He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone an entire week without some sort of issue with at least one of his team. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone an entire seven days without having to issue some burning reprimand or punishment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone home on a Friday and reflected on a flawless week. He blinked into the darkness of his palms. He was ashamed to admit that this whole thing with Abby was really getting to him. Really getting under his skin. Didn't he deserve more that lies and subterfuge? He went out of his way for her, indulged her, coddled her and this is what he got in return.

Lies, lies and more lies.

He groaned. He felt old. Tired. Perhaps before his time. How was he going to approach this, now? Truth be told, he thought she would own up. There and then in the lab when he had handed her enough rope to hand herself. But she hadn't. Nor had she walked through his front door and resolved to face the music. Nor had she taken the opportunity whilst he was just down with her, alone, to fess up. Instead, she continued on with her fabricated documents, thinking she had pulled the wool over his eyes. And that was maybe the hardest thing. If she hadn't accidentally sent him that e-mail, he never in a million years would have suspected she could so anything like this.

Not her.

Not his Abby.

Perhaps it was best that he had had only one child. Clearly, he wasn't capable of being objective, of being fair. He spoiled Abby. He knew that. He didn't spoil the boys, or Ziva. And in his heart and soul he knew none of them would pull this kind of stunt. They could be brazen and rebellious, impulsive and insubordinate. But they wouldn't do something like this. They wouldn't stoop so low. The consequences would be far too dire to even contemplate. But that wasn't the case for Abby, was it? He frowned. He didn't force the same consequences with her, expect the same standards. He was lenient, avuncular. Willing to write off her bad behaviour as her "quirks" when in reality, she got away with behaving like a spoiled little brat.

His head was beginning to hurt.

But if the niggling pain in his temples was bothering him, he was in for an unpleasant upsurge in pain. Suddenly aware that he was not alone, he dragged his head up out of his hands and arched a brow. His stomach did a funny turn. Leon had a thunderous looking glare etched into his face. His eyes were a smouldering brown, bleeding with rage. Gibbs blinked up at him in confusion. But that confusion was short lived. A leaf of paper was suddenly slammed down under his nose, narrowly missing his right nasal passage. He frowned down at it.

His stomach did a somersault followed by a backwards flip.

His mouth ran dry.

The orange walls seemed to gleam all the more brightly.

The Director glared down at him, his presence intimidating even the hardened Marine. There was no mistaking it. There was no denying it and there was no hiding it away. It was there, in all its black and white glory, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Abby's transcript.

The "real" one.

He swallowed.

"Leon, I-"

Vance held up a vibrating hand and shook his head with the precision of the hangman who, in that moment, for all intents and purposes, he was.

"Save it, Gibbs. Ms Sciuto is on her own."

…

TBC: No time to proof this guys, I'll edit later in the case of typos (sorry!)

Inks x

… …


	5. Chapter 5

"Leon. Please let me handle this."

Director Vance leant back in his chair with a ferocious scowl, having shifted the unpleasant conversation he was having back to the security of his own office. Gibbs was insistent and resistant, as usual, and his patience was wearing thin. Thinner than thin. All in all, he had just about enough of being told how to run his Agency by a man who was clearly blinkered by favouritism.

"Ms Sciuto cost this Agency a considerable about of money, Gibbs. Fruitless money. These are tough times we're in, we're not immune to the economic meltdown. Budget cuts are coming and they're coming hard. That money could have done something good, something really good. Instead, Ms Sciuto squandered it and then rather than owning the hell up, she lied about it. You cannot fail to see my disquiet here. She has well and truly screwed this whole thing up."

The elder of the two nodded with a grimace.

"I know that."

Vance quirked a frustration laden brow.

"She fabricated official NYU documentation, lied to her employers, lied to _you_."

Gibbs gnawed his lip and yearned for the sweet release of a stiff bourbon.

"I know that, Leon. Don't you think I know that?"

"I don't know what the hell you know, Gibbs! If you're so all-knowing, why didn't you know about this before I did? Why didn't you figure this crap out before it landed on my desk? Why didn't you look into your damned crystal ball and see….and see…."

He trailed off, a vibrant flicker of anger forking in his eyes.

"Of course," he murmured quietly, "Of course you knew. You _did_ know before I did and rather than dealing with the matter as I would expect an SSA of this Agency to do, you kept it quiet. You kept it real quiet. In fact, I bet you were intent on keeping it so quiet that I would never even need to know about it. Am I wrong?"

Not having the gall or the stomach to lie, Gibbs at least had the grace to look moderately ashamed.

"No, Director. You're not wrong."

Leon let out a slow, soft breath and fought to retain control of himself.

"Before I became Director here, former Director Shepherd and I were in relatively frequent communication," he muttered, catching Gibbs off-guard. "Did you know that? That we were in relatively frequent communication? Anyway, the main topic of said communication was you. She liked to blow off steam about you, rant about you, let out all her frustrations about you. And I used to think you know, that she was exaggerating a bit. I mean, back then I wasn't your biggest fan. Not really your biggest fan as it stands right now, but I thought she was blowing things out of proportion. I didn't think one single Agent could cause so much consternation in an Agency that employs thousands."

His gaze darkened.

"But how wrong I was, Gibbs. And how right she was."

Chewing his bottom lip, a haggard Jethro gave a semi-strangled shrug.

"Guilty as charged, I guess. But this ain't about me, it's about Abby. And I'm asking you Leon, as a favour, to please let me handle it. It'll not go undealt with. I can promise you that and something like this will never happen again. If you deal with this officially, it'll kill her career and you know it. This sort of crap stains and it stinks and no matter what, you can't ever fully wash it off. She's screwed the pooch big time here and I ain't ever been this angry or disappointed with her. To the point where a part of me is tempted to throw her to your wolves and let her sink or swim."

He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his tiredly itching eyes.

"But I can't, Leon. I can't do that and I'm asking you to greenlight handling things my way."

He swallowed and put together the two vowels and three consonants that never came easy for him.

"Please?"

Leon exhaled slowly, exasperatedly.

"Dammnit, Gibbs. Don't you think your off-the-record approach is partially the reason behind this mess?" He tilted his head at the man's flicker of surprise and shook his head ruefully. "You think I'm that stupid, do you? You think I believe your team has a collective and very nearly spotless record? You think I don't know what kind of man you are, the kind of values you have? You honestly believe I don't know how you were taught in the Corps and in the early days of NIS? You truly think that I just live up in this fancy-ass office and don't have a Scooby-Doo what goes on below?"

He tightened his tie and waved a dismissive hand.

"Think again, Agent Gibbs, think again."

For his part, Agent Gibbs was mildly flabbergasted, but Leon didn't spare him much thinking time.

"Fine," he snapped, his tone suddenly officious and brisk. "I will, as a favour that I expect to be repaid, allow you to keep this whole transcript transgression in-house. But I want a cast iron assurance that something like this will never happen again. I will not have such deceit and dishonesty. And I tell you something, Gibbs, Ms Sciuto is at the very bottom of my list when it comes to anything other than her basic entitlements and she will remain there for as long as I see fit, not you. Is that perfectly clear to you?"

Gibbs swallowed, relief and fatigue gripping him.

"Yes, Director, it's clear."

Leon shot an irritated look towards the door, not sure if he was making the right call.

"Good, then get out. I will let you know when I want that chit called in. Dismissed."

Unconsciously holding his breath, Gibbs left the office as quickly as he could without actually running. Bounding back down to the bull-pen, chagrined to find it full of the rest of his team, he realised he still had a case to run. With as much effort as it had ever cost him, he slipped back into investigative mode and barked orders. They had a full work-day ahead of them and difficult as it was, he had to put Abby and the shitstorm she had caused out of his mind until it was done. By the time he finally sent Ziva and the boys home, he was exhausted. Knowing she would still be down in her lab, he waited until the bickering trio were safely ensconced in the lift before taking the stairs down to her lair.

She was still there when he strode in, her head bent over some report or other.

Without pretence or flair, he landed in front of her and swiped the report from under her nose. Looking at her with the stoniest expression imaginable as she jerked upwards in surprise, he held up a halting hand to stay her parting lips.

"Don't speak. Don't you dare open your mouth. I'm going to do the talking. I know everything, alright? About what you did, the lies and the deceit. The screw-up at NYU and everything after the fact. Want to know what's for desert? The Director knows, too. I've just spent the last twenty minutes being reamed out for my less-than-impressive managerial technique and pleading with him to let me handle this myself. After being told that I'm essentially not all that hot in handling my people, he's grudgingly allowed me to do just that on the assurance that you will never pull something like this again. I think we can both agree that is pretty much a foregone conclusion. So, you can either agree to my handling it or you can go upstairs and see Leon to discuss the hole in NCIS' budget that came with no upside. It's entirely your call, I pretty much don't care at this point. So, make your mind up and let me know. You know where I live. If you're coming over, try and make it past the front door this time."

His speech, curt and cutting, dripped with a coldness so frigid the temperature of the room seemed to drop alongside it.

"My one condition is that you don't somehow manage to drag Ziva or the boys into this. This is entirely your mess and yours alone to clean up, if it can be cleaned up. See, I don't know if it can be. Because I've known you a long time and I've muddled through a lot of your stunts. But this? This new habit of lying straight to my damned face? This new quirk of sneaking around behind my back, landing me in hot water with the Director because I stupidly continue to try and cover your ass? This new deal of playing me and everyone else for fools to suit your own ends and further your own agenda?" His face melted into a mask of aloof and almost clinical contemplation.

"I don't even know how to go about cleaning up a mess like that."

Before Abby could pull her jaw up off the table or steady her wildly beating heart he was turning on his heel and then he was gone.

Throwing her nothing but a look of sheer and uncalculated disgust as he left.

The sound of the doors swooshing shut was muffled by her strangled sob.

Such a sob was to be the first of many.

….

TBC

…


	6. Chapter 6

The door knob slipped under her sweaty palm. Once, twice, thrice. She tried again, albeit with a certain reluctance, and her hand slipped away for the fourth time. There was terror and then there was the leaden feeling of molten fear that burned in her gut. He had never spoken to her like that before. Never looked at her like that before. For the first time in their relationship, she wished she wasn't his favourite. Because at least then she'd have some experience in having him look at her like she was the worst person he'd ever met. As her hand slipped away for the fifth time, she couldn't blame him. She was the person she had ever met. She was a liar and a coward and all her dirty little secrets were now airing for the entire world to see. The sixth time her hand clawed at the door, she was successful and it swung open with its usual squeak.

As she stumbled, tumbled and damn near fell through the door, he looked up from the sofa.

A cold brow was arched.

"Close the door."

A short and simple command. The kind she needed in the heat of the coldest moment. Trying not to look at his stony face, cemented in disappointment, she shut the front door with a soft snap. Standing awkwardly in the hallway, she opened her mouth uncertainly. But he beat her to the punch, seemingly engrossed in the book he was reading, not even looking up at her.

"Get yourself into the corner. Nose touching the wall. I don't want to hear a word out of you."

Tears soared into her eyes. Her barely dry eyes. She had cried many tears in the two hours or so since he'd stormed from her lab. The fact that he couldn't bear to look at her, the icy tone of his voice, only served to stir the bitter misery in her further. She couldn't handle it. She peeled apart her lips in desperation, unable to contain herself.

"Gibbs-"

"Do as you're told or get out."

Shock. Glacial shock. It battered her as her legs moved of their own volition, having more sense than the rest of her. He never spoke to her like that. She was his precious favourite. A lump formed in her throat as the corner loomed large. The cool feel of the wall pressed against the nose as she stood in the familiar spot, in the most unfamiliar of circumstances. Usually, he would practically cajole her into planking herself in the detested reflection spot. Sure, he'd be stern and be in no-nonsense-Gibbs mode, but he'd still be kind. Still his silver fox self. The person over there, nose buried in a book, she barely recognised as being her Gibbs. And it was all her fault. She bit back a sob, instinctively knowing he didn't want to hear it.

As he watched her shoulders rack with silent misery, his body imploded with conflicting emotion.

He wanted to scream and holler at her. He wanted to hold and comfort her. He wanted to spank her into the middle of the next century. He wanted to give her a light slap on the wrist and tell her to never do it again. He stared unseeingly at the book in his hands. He was pretty much an expert on how to handle his brood. With Tony, you had to be straight to the point. No theatrics. Same with Ziva. With Tim and Abby, you had to be a littler gentler. They were a little more emotionally sensitive. And so, he was. A little gentler with them. But he knew he couldn't be gentle this time. He didn't have it in him. It had taken an almost superhuman strength to calm himself to a point where he could begin to deal with his lab rat.

He was in control, he knew it. But he was still boiling with tempter. Hurt with betrayal.

He sighed.

He felt so god damned old at times like this.

He let her stew in the corner for twenty minutes. Not a long time in the normal course of things, but the corner always made one minute into ten and he knew when enough was enough. Testing the strains of his own boundaries and control, tasting the tip of his temper, he knew he was ready. He was in total and utter control of himself. He could deal with things as fairly as they could be dealt with, no longer blinded by the raw emotions of rage and shock.

"Get yourself over here. Front and centre."

She moved at a glacial pace. He bit back the diatribe that flew to his lips when he saw her face. Pale, paler than pale. Smudged with enough mascara to give her the vivid impression of a racoon who'd just watch their soulmate be killed by a falling tree. He could see the fear in her eyes. He had no choice but to ignore it. She had brought it entirely and squarely on herself. No one else to blame. He pointed sternly to the spot right in front of his perch on the sofa. Eye contact would be inevitable. She shuffled into position like a convict to the gallows, her gaze furtive.

That wasn't going to fly.

"Look at me. This second."

Red rimmed and watery eyes found his. A collision of river and drought. He leaned back, jaw tight.

"Explain yourself. You have two minutes."

She sucked in a dizzying amount of air. Swayed on her feet. Images of her time at NYU burned into her brain. Shame swept through her. There was no way out. For the first time, she wasn't going to misdirect and pontificate. He deserved better than that and no matter how terrifying it was, she knew she had to deliver. Like a band aid, it was better to rip it off. In explanation terms, it was better to get it all out in one go and simply hope the wound wasn't too deep.

"When I got to NYU I had every intention of acing the course. But then, I guess the college lifestyle got to me. I started making new friends, partying all night and sleeping in. I thought I could handle it. That I could balance having a good time with good grades. Thought I was more than clever enough to do it. But I wasn't. By the time finals came around, I had absolutely no idea of the course and I totally underestimated the level of the exams. I couldn't waffle my way through. I bombed them. I've never failed an exam in my life, let alone a set. Let alone an incredibly important set. I panicked. I remembered the chat we'd had before I left, the promises I made. I couldn't bear the thoughts of seeing your face when you found what I'd done. So, I was a coward. I mocked up a new transcript, enrolled on a make-up course to retake the exams. I thought if I could just ace them the second time round, no one would need to know and the whole mess could just be forgotten about."

She was red in the face by the time her sorry tale came to an end.

She hadn't taken a breath throughout the whole regaling process.

He stared at her with an expressionless face, his head tilted to the side in contemplation.

"I think that's the most disappointing thing I've ever had to listen to from one of my people."

She flinched. Both at his words and the cool, cold tone of damning sincerity behind them. He gazed up at her unapologetically and shrugged.

"Well, what do you want me to say Abby? That I forgive you? I don't. I will, in time, but right now I don't. Right now, I can't even believe I'm having this conversation with you. I trusted you. Put my neck on the line for you and you repay me with lies and deceit. You looked me in the eye day-after-day and lied through your teeth to me. You've known me long enough to know that the _one_ thing I cannot tolerate is dishonesty. And yet you thought yourself above the rules, didn't you? You thought those annoying rules were only for Ziva and the boys. That because you're _Abby_ you didn't need to follow them. Isn't that right?"

She paled, making to shake her head.

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "It's no secret that I let you away with murder and look where we are because of it. I take my blame for my part in this. I coddle you. I make excuses for your outrageous behaviour, the same kind of behaviour that I'd come down on Ziva and the boys for. I write your stunts off as being just an Abby quirk. But they're not, are there? They're just the actions of a spoiled little madam, doing whatever she pleases, safe in the knowledge that blind old Gibbs will come running and make it all go away when it all blows up to hell."

Tears spilled out over her cheeks and he sighed.

Crooking a finger to her, he waited until she was close enough to pull her down beside him.

Draping an arm around her shoulders and pushing down his still molten anger, he held her tight and spoke quietly.

"I stand by everything I just said. You are far too entitled and far too spoiled. And that's my fault as much as it yours. I need to toughen it up with you before you do something I can't pull you back from. And it starts here, right now. I…hell, you know I still love you Abbs. You could never do anything to change that. But what you've done, what you've pulled this time, it's beyond the pale. And by the time I'm finished with you, you're never even going to think about doing something like it again. Your equal treatment to the other three starts now. I'm going to punish you the same way I would Ziva. And it's not going to be pretty and you could very well hate me but I just don't care. It's what going to happen or you're going to find yourself a new job. Is that understood?"

She stiffened beside him, peeking up with fear blazing in her eyes.

"A new job?" she choked out, "You'd fire me?"

He nodded slowly, sincerity etching into his face.

"If it was a choice between keeping you safe and keeping you with me, then yes, I would."

She knew he was referring to all the times she'd placed herself in danger from insubordination and couldn't find a valid counter argument. So, she merely nodded, shock radiating from her. Silence spiralled between them for a moment as each lapsed into their own thoughts, the charged situation tiring both where they sat. It was Gibbs who broke the spell of the quietude, realising the uphill task he'd just assigned himself.

"Are you ready to talk about your punishment now?"

She squirmed slightly against him, but nodded nonetheless.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"First of all, you're grounded. Until you ace those make up exams. You will serve it here. No phones, or whatever else. Nothing unnecessarily electronic whatsoever. No out, no friends and no fun. Just here, work and evening study. Nowhere and nothing in between. Do you understand me?"

She bobbed her head up and down slowly, having expected that sentence.

"Secondly, as soon as we're finished this conversation, you are going to get the spanking of your life. I give you fair warning. When I say you're not going to sit down for a week, it's not a cliché. It's an actual fact. You are going to fetch the hairbrush you hate and I am going to wear it out on your behind. After that, your mouth is going to get a good cleaning out with some strong soap, to wash all the lies out of it. Is that clear?"

She blanched, stiffened and breathed sharply. But all in all, nodded acceptingly.

"Thirdly, you will appreciate that today's spanking is for your lies and your deceit. You still need to be punished for the screw up at NYU itself, not just the cover up. Because today's spanking is going to be so tough, I'm going to let you decide when you get your second spanking for your dishonesty. It can be any time throughout your grounding. You will come to me and ask me for it when you want to get it over and done with. You will tell me exactly what you're asking for, why you're asking for it and why you deserve it. No exceptions. Is that understood?"

Tears burned into her eyes once more as reality dawned hard.

He was unmoved, raising a stern brow.

"I asked you if that was clear, Abby. I'd like an answer."

It took a second, but she finally managed to nod. Paling all the while.

"Yes Gibbs," she whispered, "It's clear."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, feeling every one of his years. Before he could help it, he bundled the morose scientist into his arms and pressed a kiss onto her dark hair. Holding her tightly, he spoke with a gentle murmur.

"We're going to get through this. I promise. We'll be ok."

With that, he released her and slapping on the sternest of stern faces he cleared his throat.

"Go and fetch the brush, Abby. I'm about to teach you a lesson you're never going to forget."

…

A/N: One more chapter and this one is done!

Inks x

…...


	7. Chapter 7

The hand that proffered the heavy wooden brush trembled. Against his instincts and usual conduct, Gibbs ignored the tremor. With extreme and concealed difficulty. Accepting the brush from the pale, clammy and red-eyed Abby, he pointed firmly to the all too familiar spot at his right-hand side. With a small gulp, she moved slowly to position herself where directed, staring down at the floor with an embarrassed misery radiating from her. Clearing his throat and forcing himself to remember why he was doing what he was about to do, Gibbs spoke in a calm but stern voice.

"What is this spanking for, Abby?"

Oddly, she managed to remain pale but blush furiously at the same time.

"For lying and being deceitful," she whispered in a broken voice that killed him. "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed.

"I know you're sorry," he said, allowing a kindly tone to seep into his words. "I know that you know what you did was wrong, I know that you know you're better than your actions and I know that you're never going to repeat them. What you need to also know is that even if you murder someone right in front of me, it's never going to change the way I feel about you. Ok?"

As ever, emotional admissions were natural when it came to Abby.

She remained silent, but the relief splintering across her face was answer enough.

"Let's get this over with, ok?"

She nodded, clearly torn between agreement and bolting. He decided the kindest action was to be swift but thorough. Without another word, he reached out and took her hand. Increasing the pressure, he pulled her gently down over his knee, tightening a firm hand around her waist in the same movement. She buried her face, as she always did, in the sofa cushion, stretching her arms out in front of her in an attempt to resist the urge to reach back.

That never ended well.

With as much reluctance and dread as Abby felt, though she'd never believe it, Gibbs knew he needed to depart a stern lesson. Lifting up her dress, folding it to the small of her back, he reached down and pulled her skull adorned underwear down just as far enough as was necessary. She whimpered slightly at the complete lack of a warm-up, but didn't argue. She knew better. Increasing the pressure around her waist and holding her tightly to him, Gibbs drew a deep breath and felt the brush burn against his hand.

Outlandish actions called for unusually severe punishments.

He knew that, but it didn't make it any easier.

The first crack of a thick wooden brush against an unwarmed and bared backside drew a strangled yell from it's recipient. The pitch of the wounded squawk splintered Gibbs' heart. Recalling the reasons why they were where they were, he breathed deeply and arched his arm again. And again. And again after that. Soon, the room sang with the snap of oak wood on bare skin. She squirmed heavily under his hold, as only to be expected, and he held her in place with an ease that made his skin crawl. Her sobs broke free quickly, as he knew they would, rising in a teeth-chattering crescendo. Within a minute, her bared behind had gone from a milky pale to a burning hue of crimson.

The same intensity and rapidity of swats that had punished her backside, landed upon her sit spots.

Her muffled whimpers of pain and pleas for forgiveness would keep him up when night came.

The spanking was one of the longest and certainly one of the hardest he'd ever dished out to one of his girls. Before long, Abby's sobs were no longer vocal, her body racking with silent misery, soundless tears pouring down her cheeks. Every crack of the brush spliced Gibbs' ears as he delivered them, wishing to hurl the infernal thing out the window. He wished for that every single time he used it, and yet, he had enough sense to know that there would always be a use for it. He didn't scold, he didn't open his mouth as he continued to dish out one of the most well-deserved punishments one of his lot had earned in a long, long time.

But even with the most egregious transgression, enough was always enough, and this was no exception.

As her torso fell into limpness, he knew that they were there.

The brush stayed and his relief was as profound as hers.

Pushing the wooden implement down the side of the sofa so she wouldn't have to see it, he silently and quickly righted her clothing. She continued to shudder with silent sobs and he knew better than to speak. She wasn't ready, not yet. He simply rubbed his hand slowly up and down the small of her back, still holding her close to him. An interminable amount of time past, he didn't care. He continued to softly press upon her back, his heart lessening in pain as her sobs began to peter out. Several minutes had trickled by before the last of her tears fell, leaving only the fallen in their stead. With a huge intake of breath, she made to rouse herself. Gentle hands guided her upwards, settling her down in his lap, wincing at her wince.

She buried her face in his chest before he could speak to her.

Smiling slightly, he carded a hand through her thick hair and murmured quietly.

"You don't have to speak. You just need to listen. I know that I was hard on you. I know that you're hurting. I know today's been rough. But you need to know that you're forgiven now, Abbs. I forgive you and you need to forgive yourself. Your punishment isn't over, I know, and that sucks. I know that too. But that doesn't mean you're not forgiven. You are. You made a very poor choice, and many others after the fact, but we all make stupid decisions now and then. You came to me to make it right, and that's all that matters. You were brave when it mattered, and that's all that matters. Nod your head if you understand me."

Forever seemed to pass with nothing, no movement.

His brow was about to break out in sweat when her head moved up and down slowly.

Her voice was muffled, her face still pressed deeply into his chest.

"I hate you and I love you."

He laughed then, continuing to rub his hand through her dark hair.

"You hate that you love me?"

She smiled into his chest, her eyes growing heavy, sleep not far away.

"Something like that."

….

A/N: In response to your lovely comments, I've decided to make this longer as requested!

Inks x

…..


	8. Chapter 8

_"_ _You hate that you love me?"_

 _She smiled into his chest, her eyes growing heavy, sleep not far away._

 _"_ _Something like that."_

His heart splinted painfully as he heard the beginnings of her wet-eyed slumber. Closing his eyes briefly, he fought ferociously with himself. He could just let it go. Let it slide. He could just write the latter extent of part one of her punishment go. That didn't make him a bad person, or an inconsistent person. It just made him a person. She'd suffered enough, really, she had. She was snuffling into his chest, utterly exhausted, and he truly didn't fancy his odds at performing the duties of judge, jury and executioner.

He had nearly, oh-so-very-nearly convinced himself, when she spoke softly.

"Do you want me to go and get the soap now?"

He glanced down at the dark head still buried into his chest and felt a conflicting wave of emotion drench him. Pride and horror were an incompatible force and he felt suffocated under their brawl for dominance within him. Unconsciously, he held her tighter to him as his brain tried to balance the books with his heart and a haze of quietude wafted over them. She didn't rush him. She knew him better than anyone. Knew his taciturn ways were really just his way of processing. Of working things out.

"Do you think you should go and get the soap now?"

She stiffened slightly against his torso. The only betrayal of the fear that was beginning to pound within her. It had taken her every modicum of bravery to drag up the self-awareness through the smog of her red-bottomed misery to suggest it in the first place. Having it redirected back to her was almost too much, but she licked her lips and forced herself to remember the snowball chain of events that had landed her where she was. At the core of that tumbling wrecking ball, was dishonesty.

She wasn't about to lie then and there. Not to him. She couldn't.

"I think I should."

The devil on his shoulder was summarily flicked off as her quiet voice drifted up to him. Pressing a responsive kiss atop her dark mop of hair, he rubbed his hand up and down her shoulder and allowed himself another peaceable moment of just holding her. But the nature of inevitability didn't change for anyone, not even Leroy Jethro Gibbs and he knew better than to try and dodge the bullet. Biting it instead, he gently disentangled himself from her and rose, outstretching his hand with the avuncular smile she had feared she would never, ever see again.

"How about we go together?"

Only her silver-fox could make her feel loved in the midst of chastisement. Slipping her small hand in his broad counterpart, she allowed him to guide her to the downstairs bathroom that they were all familiar with. The door creaked when he opened it and flicked on the light. Leaving it ajar so she wouldn't feel trapped, he reached up and around her for the bathroom cabinet. Extracting a new and wrapped bar of his favourite soap, he opened it and threw the paper in the trashcan. He rolled up his sleeves before swiftly running it under the gushing cold tap. She watched in a state of red-eyed and silent misery as a thick, creamy lather smothered the shockingly green bar in his hands.

This was going to suck.

Squeaking off the tap, he stood in front of her and arched a brow. This was not a punishment he used often and it was not one he issued lightly. He remembered having his own mouth washed out by a thoroughly exasperated Jackson and recalled sharply the acrid aftertaste that remained for hours after rinsing had been permitted. The soap in his hands was bubbling, ready for it's recipient, who was eying it with wide, horrified eyes. He cleared his throat. He had to find another lecture in him. Somehow, someway, he managed to dredge one up.

"You never use your mouth to lie to me, young lady. I expect nothing but the bluntest, harshest truth from you at all times, in all regards. I never want to have to overthink something you've told me because you have a history of lying to me. To your credit, you don't do it often and you don't do it lightly, but the point of the matter is you should _never_ do it. You are one of the most incredible people I know and lying, cheating and skirting around the truth is beneath you. I want you to think about how you let both me and yourself down by lying to me when this soap is in your mouth. Do you understand me or do I need to repeat myself on the matter?"

She flinched.

He hid his.

"No Gibbs, I understand," she whispered, "It'll never happen again."

He sighed.

"I've heard that before, haven't I? But after this I hope to never hear it again."

He took a step closer and held the dripping soap up high.

"Open your mouth wide. Right now."

Closing her eyes and breathing in her last unhindered breath, she did just that. Tears instantly sprang into her eyes the moment the slippery bar slid between her jaws. The burning sensation coated the back of her throat, sprinkling her tonsils with impunity. She bit back the urge to splutter and sputter. It would, from experience, only make things worse. Through the fog of her dripping misery, she heard his voice, but kept her eyes clamped closed.

"Bite down and turn around and face the corner, Abby."

Whimpering, she did as she was bid and pivoted blindly to face the wood-panelled wall that all four of them had at one time or another faced with a bar of soap between their teeth. With a sharp swat across her burning backside to straighten her up into her position, Gibbs leant back against the adjacent wall and prayed to whatever entity that wasn't earthly for the strength to get him through.

Five minutes later, he considered enough was truly enough.

A soft hand on her shoulder had never been more gratefully received as he gently guided her out of the corner. Placing a wad of tissue under her chin, he divested her of the strong but safe soap. Throwing it in the bin, he swiftly pulled out the toothbrush he recognised as hers and handed it to her alongside a tube of toothpaste. Smiling despite himself as the bat and skull covered brush was put to furious use, he rubbed her back gently as she scrubbed with a fervour.

It would take away the brunt of it, but she would still be tasting it at midnight.

Spitting out the third dose of toothpaste, she wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve and stood slowly upwards from the faucet. She turned slowly to him and sucked in a deep, sudsy breath. His eyes were once again soft pool of azure blue, the dark grey clouds having been swept away. Her toothy smile in response only served to soften them further.

"I think I can cancel my tooth cleaning appointment. They're squeaky clean."

He grinned broadly at her, reaching out to tuck her affectionately under the chin.

"I wish your record was as squeaky clean."

She glowered good-naturedly at him as he threw an arm over her shoulder and led them from the bathroom. Glancing up at the stairs and at the sleep that still gathered in his eyes, he drew her into his arms and held her in fiercely gentle embrace.

"Why don't you and your squeaky-clean teeth go on up to bed?"

She swayed on the balls of her feet.

"I'm not tired."

He rolled his eyes down at her and his eyes twinkled.

"No? Ok then. Great actually, because I was meaning to ask you to show me how to use a smartphone."

He choked on his own laughter as she backed away in alarm. His head tilted to the side as she retreated slowly to the stairs, her arms raised high in surrender. He positively spluttered with laughter when she bumped back-first into the bannister with alarm shrieking in her eyes.

"Oh, c'mon Abbs, if you're not tired I really want to learn how to do the googling?"

She choked in horror and sprinted up the stairs as fast as her burning-behind and freshly soaped-mouth would allow her. At the sound of her door snapping hastily shut, Gibbs shook his head with a tired grin and threw himself down on the sofa. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he felt some of the tension he had been carrying melt away from his shoulders. Mumbling to himself, he dropped down on his back to slumber, his words drifting around the room, directed at nothing and no one.

"Part one of three down. How much worse can it get?"

…..

TBC

…..


	9. Chapter 9

He was a patient man. People didn't think he was, but he knew he was. At times, he was quite convinced he had the patience of not just a saint, but _all_ the saints. But that patience was being put to the bitter test as he sat and tried to enjoy his favourite Western after a long day at the Yard. He knew the lines off by heart. He didn't technically need to hear them. But he liked to hear them. They comforted him. And Abby's continual and strategically timed sighs were making it very hard to hear them. They were making them very hard to hear indeed. Gritting his teeth as his fringe fluttered under her breath, he reminded himself of his familiar mantra.

Convicted feds did not do well in maximum security.

He couldn't afford to commit murder.

No matter how much his spared victims may deserve it.

"Gibbs, can I just-"

"No."

"But can I just go to-"

"No."

"I _only_ want to go there to-"

 _"_ _No."_

A stalemate flooded the living room. His teeth were doing a more than adequate job of tearing through his steak such was his mounting ire. He loved Abby. He truly did. But she was absolutely, categorically doing her level best to drive him irrevocably around the bend. They were now three weeks into her sentence and her patience with her confinement was running thinner than thin. Her sense of repentance was wearing off, and her sense of victimisation was growing by the second. And his sense of murderous intent was blooming like a summer crop.

"I've studied for five hours straight this evening."

He nodded with his gaze never leaving the black and white screen.

"Congratulations. Why don't you take an early night to celebrate?"

He didn't have glance at her to see her snarl.

"There are people doing hard time for a career of crime that get more privileges for good behaviour than I do."

He inclined his head in thoughtful contemplation.

"They've probably spent a lot more time on proving that good behaviour than you have. If you like, I can certainly extend your stay here so you receive an equal opportunity to exhibit your rehabilitation in its most flattering light."

Her snarl was animalistic in the shrouded light of her armchair.

"There are times, Gibbs, there are times that I hate you."

He chewed serenely and took a deep draught of beer.

"That keeps me up at night you know, Abbs. I lay awake and toss and turn with tears in my eyes about your hatred of me. Ducky suggested I take up meditation to deal with my turmoil. I laughed at first, but now that you've brought it up, I think I might have to give it a go. We could do it together. I know how much you love spending all this time with me."

He sensed the book she was holding was becoming dangerously close to sailing through the air with a singular target in mind.

His head.

Silence resumed once more, to his intense pleasure, and he lost himself yet again in his film as Abby reluctantly read in the corner. He wasn't a young man and he'd been around. He should have therefore known better than to think the quietude was ever going to carry a degree of longevity.

"If it was Tony in this situation, you'd let him go."

Gibbs pursed his lips.

"If it was Tony in this situation, he'd know better than to ask."

She scowled heavily, a frown clouding her brow.

"Gibbs, please, I'm so _bored._ I'm literally ahead of myself in every class I'm taking. My exams aren't for weeks and weeks and I cannot spend another night in this prison without a brief parole. Can I _please_ just go to Todd's coffin party for even an hour or so? He's made a double sized mahogany number that I just have to try out before, you know, it's uhm…permanent occupant takes residence."

Gibbs sighed heavily.

"You _will_ be the permanent occupant if you do not quit it with all this whining. The answer is no. Ok, Abby? The answer is no. I understand this isn't what you want to do on a Friday night. Tough luck. That's the whole point of a punishment. It isn't supposed to be pleasant. It isn't supposed to be easy. And you _aren't_ supposed to moan and groan your way through every single hour of it and drive me _insane_ in the process."

She threw her hands up to heaven in agitated passion.

"But I've done everything you've asked. I've gone to work and then I've arrived back here. Day after day. I'm beginning to lose my mind. You won't let me have my cell or my laptop. You have no internet. You're watching a prehistoric television and you _hammer_ into the early hours of the morning. I am going to lose my mind. You understand? I am absolutely going to lose my mind and you're going to be held legally responsible in a court of law."

He smirked as he threw down another deep draught of beer.

"Oh, I think any reasonable judge will see things my way given the reason for your being here. Do you remember those reasons, Abby? Or would you like a play-by-play reminder as to the exact litany of transgressions that landed you in prison? I'm happy to oblige if you do. Just say the word."

She shook her head sullenly.

"It's not nice to throw things back in my face."

He released a very slow breath and prayed for divine inspiration.

"I am not throwing anything back in your face. Don't be so dramatic and petulant. I am merely countering your whining with a dose of reality. If you don't want that reality check, then you need to button that lip and stop giving me reasons to give you one."

Abby slouched back in her chair with a ferocious pout.

"So, that's it? The answer is a point-blank no and I have to spend yet another Friday night counting the stripes on my bedroom wall? Which is one-hundred and thirty-eight stripes, in case you were wondering."

His tiredness and irritation were beginning to pierce the veil of his patience.

"Abby," he growled, in the first real warning tone of the night, "This is your final warning. I've had it with the whining and the groaning. You could be out there right now trying to figure out how you were going to get another job with a big black mark on your record. You need to sit there and thank your lucky stars that I ensured that didn't happen. So yes, the answer is no. No you are _not_ going to Todd's whatever-the-hell-it-is party. No you are _not_ going to any party, at any time, for a long time. The sooner you accept that fact and adjust your attitude accordingly, the happier we'll both be. Is that understood?"

Throwing down her book in cumulative rage, she seethed.

"You're being an absolute jerk, Gibbs. A complete and utter _jerk."_

Closing his eyes in resignation, he stood slowly.

She was an athletic and observant person. She really was. So she wasn't quite sure as to how she suddenly ended up out of her chair, with his leg propped up where she had been sitting, and dangling over his raised-up knee. The fierce and fast barrage of swats that assailed her prone and cotton-end clad behind were breathtaking and she squealed as a fire sparked against her pale cheeks.

It was an admittedly brief spanking, but a thorough spanking. Tears pooled in her eyes as her squeals of pained protest were ignored and a large hand was methodically applied to her upturned butt. By the time the last swat fell and she was set on her feet, a respectable sting coated her cheeks, necessitating a thorough rub from frantic hands.

Gibbs was unmoved as he pointed to the staircase.

"Unless you want to find out the kind of jerk I can _really_ be, I suggest you march yourself up those stairs and get ready for bed. If I hear one more syllable of complaint from you tonight, I'm going to be very happy that I left the wooden spoon on the draining board to dry. I'm sure it will air quickly if dusted off against your bared backside. Now _move_ it."

With misery spilling onto her cheeks, she turned and fled the room. As he slumped dejectedly back into his own chair, Gibbs sighed when he heard the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut. Deciding it best to pick and choose his battles, he let it go and allowed the tiredness he was battling to engulf him. Against the flickering backdrop of his now nearly finished film, his head lolled back against the worn sofa and a seeping sleep overtook him.

Upstairs, wounded and alert, Abby was nowhere near sleep.

A sense of injustice burned her. She knew she had screwed up with her failed exams. She didn't deny it. But she had been as good as the most golden of gold for _weeks_ now and Gibbs still wasn't giving an inch. She knew she wasn't about to be paroled anytime soon, but a few extra privileges were hardly asking the extraordinary. It was getting downright embarrassing to have to keep coming up with lame excuses to avoid social gatherings. And Todd's party was an annual event that anyone worth their salt attended with gusto. Lying on her bed with a still smarting backside, the unfairness of it all consumed her.

She was right.

Gibbs was being a jerk.

The jerkiest of jerks.

The party would be kicking off in an hour and she'd never missed one before. It was one of her favourite parties of the year and it would be unbearable to listen to everyone's stories of the night for months to come. Hearing Gibbs' raucous snoring drifting up the stairs, a sense of danger began to intermingle with her rankling injustice.

All she wanted was to go for _one_ hour.

Gibbs' naps were legendary.

He would be out for at least three.

She could go, enjoy, and be back in bed with an hour and a half to spare. He would never need to know. And she needed the reprieve to get through the rest of her punishment. It was an intervention that was necessary to sustain her through the rest of her sentence, that much was becoming clear. It wasn't a choice anymore, it was a necessity. Gibbs just couldn't see it because he was so irascibly stubborn.

Before she knew which way was up, she was changing her outfit.

Twenty minutes later, with Gibbs' snores growing louder and louder, she was shimmying down the drain pipe that was thick and sturdy enough to support her lithe frame. Falling to the ground like a cat, she grinned like the cream catcher, and jogged off the prison grounds with an incredible stealth.

Hailing a cab a couple of blocks away, she hesitated.

If Gibbs found out, the consequences would be thermonuclear.

As she settled into the back of the car, she made a stern resolution with herself as she gave the address to the smiling cabbie. Gibbs was an intelligent and discerning man, but there were some things he remained woefully ignorant of. The main fact of which, was that his military approach to discipline wasn't always the most efficacious method.

Besides, he would never find out.

No harm no foul.

Everyone was a winner.

She repeated this to herself over and over again as the cab sped through the rain slicked roads. By the time she arrived at Todd's party, she was utterly convinced of the correctness of her own rationale. She knew herself in a way Gibbs did not. She needed this break. Otherwise _she_ would break and that was to be avoided at all costs. Dancing with her friends and with a huge smile splattered across her face, she retained the courage of her convictions.

She deserved a goddamned break.

….

TBC

….


	10. Chapter 10

Sixty minutes was her intention, but sixty minutes was not her action.

Four hours later saw Abby holding her breath and wishing on a star. The front door was still open, and it opened with a squeak. The downstairs level of the house was shrouded in darkness and she felt dizzy with relief. Gibbs must have gone to bed, turned in early. Closing the door softer than softly, she slithered through the hall and up the stairs, still holding the same breath. Guilt and terror ripened like a summer crop inside her. The full ramifications of what she had done still hadn't set in, but the preliminaries sure had. It had taken everything she had to wrench herself away from the clutched of her friends and hightail it back to prison.

But it had been very hit and miss.

She'd been having _so_ much fun and as often, in the throes of prohibition, a chord of rebellion was struck inside her. Gibbs was her _boss,_ he wasn't her father or her keeper. She was a grown woman and as much as she loved him, her silver fox didn't have the kind of jurisdiction over her that he thought he did. Sure, she had messed up just about as badly as can be, but she was paying for it. Socially speaking _and_ out of her own pocket. It wasn't as if she'd gone on a killing spree, or deliberately tampered with evidence. She'd made a mistake that thousands before her had made, as to, would thousands after her.

By the time the second hour had elapsed, she was utterly in the moment.

Tony got away with murder all the time, so why shouldn't she? Besides, Gibbs would never find out and for once, she was determined to shut her conscience down with a heady glare and a few choice words. She wasn't doing anything illegal or immoral, she was a young woman enjoying her life and that was that. What Gibbs was doing was technically false imprisonment, anyway. And she still had that second spanking coming, so she could easily flush her misdeeds of the night into that chastisement and convince herself she had paid the piper.

It was simple.

But when the fourth hour creeped around the clock, her bravado was beginning to wear off. Thankfully, she was as sober as a judge, so she could return to prison unaided. But it was the getting herself there, mentally, that was the problem. Her friends protested forcibly when she suddenly announced that she wasn't feeling well, and she had to go. But she managed to extricate herself enough to get out and hail a cab and ponder the folly of her actions. She flitted between self-assurance and self-flagellation like a pendulum. She was right, she was wrong, she was right, she was wrong…

She was wrong.

Stalled on the stairs, with the familiar scent of the House of Gibbs everywhere, she felt sick. The whole mess that she languished in was due to lying and sneaking around. And mere days after a serious and searing spanking, she'd gone and done it again. She'd taken the trust that was already battered and bruised, and put a knife right through it, like an axe through winter wood. How would he ever look at her the same way again? Tears rolled down her cheek as the pendulum stopped firmly at self-flagellation. In the darkness of the hall, everything was ironically clear.

She'd taken an already bad situation… and brought it thermonuclear.

Even Tony wouldn't do something _this_ stupid. Even McGee would know where the line was to be drawn, hell, Ziva wouldn't even push the boat this far out into choppy waters. She bit her lip, the quietude of the familiar home screaming in her ears. She had to go to bed, she had to sleep on this mess and decide what to do in the morning. The preservationist in her was screaming to keep her mouth well and truly shut, while the purist in her was pursing her lips, and shaking her head in shocked disappointment. Ignoring both the devil and the angel on her shoulders, Abby bit back a sob and creeped silently up the remainder of the stairs.

Standing there like a floundering idiot wasn't going to make things any better.

Nothing was going to make things any better.

She toyed briefly with the idea of ringing Tony and asking him for his advice, but she decided against it. It would eventually just land him in trouble as well, and selfish as she clearly was, she wasn't quite so far gone as to do that. She made her bed on her own, and she would have to lie in it on her own. That was the way of the world and it didn't change for anyone, not even Abigail Sciuto. She avoided the creaking floorboard that lay outside hers and Ziva's commandeered room like a pro. This wasn't her first bout of breaking and entering after hours, further proof that she was beyond all redemption.

Suddenly, she longed for Ziva.

The Israeli always exuded a quiet confidence that she so conspicuously lacked.

She would make things better.

But, she couldn't have her, or anyone.

She was in this alone, as she bloody well deserved to be.

She winced as the door knob creaked like a firecracker in the stillness of the night. She waited in mounting trepidation, but no sounds of awakening bloomed out in response. Gibbs had to be out for the count. Holding her breath, she pushed the door in slowly and slipped into the darkness of the room she had stormed into so many hours ago. Closing it was a soft snap, she leaned her head against it and thanked every spiritual being that ever was for allowing her to make it back without a nuclear war breaking out. Sighing in relief, she flicked on the light and turned to launch herself into her bed.

Trouble was, it was already occupied.

Sitting propped up against her pillows, with a belt in his hand, Gibbs smiled softly.

"Hey, Abbs. Having fun?"

…

A/N: Longer update on the horizon, I promise! I know I've been neglecting my NCIS fics quite badly, but I've just fallen out of love with the show as it stands now. I'll rewatch older season and get my mojo back soon, scouts honour!

Thank you for your patience, I love you guys!

Inks x

…..


	11. Chapter 11

"Gibbs… I… You gotta listen to me, this isn't what it looks like. It's-"

"Oh? It's not you sneaking back into this house after I explicitly told you that you were, under no circumstances, to _leave_ this house? It's not you having the audacity to stand there and try to lie about it? It's not that? Because, _please,_ Abigail, let me know if I've got this all wrong. Nothing would make me happier than to think that I've misjudged this situation and that you actually _haven't_ taken every ounce of trust I have in you and thrown it back in my face."

Air turned to dust in her windpipe as she gaped wordlessly, gormlessly.

Shame coloured her cheeks and regret coursed through her like venom.

"I don't know why I did it," she whispered. "I just… I just got so mad when you said I couldn't and I guess I was just trying to stick it to you and show you that you couldn't stop me from doing what I wanted to do. I know that was childish and I know that I damaged your trust even more… but please, Gibbs, I'm _so_ sorry. I'll never do anything like this again. I…"

She trailed off lamely, regret blanketing her like a winter snow.

His brow raised as a sense of icy coldness shimmered around him.

"That sounds familiar," he said softly. "You know why that sounds familiar, Abby? It sounds familiar because I've heard it all before, from you, from your mouth. I've heard all the promises and the _I won't do it agains._ And somehow, someway, it always ends up back here, doesn't it? It always ends up with you having yet another stunt under your belt and a whole host of excuses at the ready. Well, here's a little turn up for the books, Abby, it's not going to fly this time. You hear me? I've had it. I've had it with the lies, with the puppy eyes and the entitled, bratty attitude. I don't get this kind of incessant crap from Ziva or the boys and do you want to know why that is? Because they know exactly what would happen if they even tried it, if they even tried to try it. But that's not the case for you, is it? You think you can pout and sulk and pull your _Abby-isms_ out of the hat and I'll just cave and say it's all going to be ok, don't you?"

He shook his head slowly as Abby's heart splintered in two.

"Well, not this time. We're not going to have a big heart-to-heart about the why's and the how's of your disgraceful deceit and disobedience. There's no big psychological discussion to be had here. Now, here are your choices. You can either agree to a spanking with this belt, the same consequences I would dish out to Ziva or the boys if they were ever so spoiled and entitled as to do what you've done. Or, you and I can see the Director tomorrow and revert back to official consequences for forging official documentation and the blatant waste of Agency funds. It's entirely your call, because at this point in time, I don't have a preference. And I think that says it all, don't you?"

Hot, stinging tears filled her wide eyes.

He stared back, grimly unaffected.

"I don't have all night, Abby. Make up your mind and make it up fast."

Terror lanced through her as she stared from his dispassionate face to the ominous belt looped in his hands. Never, ever had he used it on her but she had heard the horror stories from the mouths of Tony and Tim and seen first hand how they'd squirmed in their seats after an appointment with Gibbs' unwavering, leathery aim. A lump formed in her throat as she read the disappointment in his eyes like a terrible book that somehow, she couldn't put down. A wave of suffocating misery drenched her as she managed to find the strength to part her lips and speak in a small, but unwavering voice.

"I don't want to go and see the Director, Gibbs… and I don't want you to hate me."

He shook his head shortly.

"Don't even try that guilt tripping nonsense, Abigail. You know fine well I could never hate you, but I'm not going to coddle you right now, no matter what you say. If you want the unofficial consequences, then that's fine, but it's your choice and it's no reflection of you and I, or anything like that. So, I'll ask you again. Is it option A or option B?"

Flinching at his calm and cool tone, she swallowed.

Hard.

"Option A."

Nodding, Gibbs swung his legs off the bed and roused himself in one fluid movement. Grabbing the pillows he had been leaning against, he pulled them down to the middle of the bed and stacked them on top of the other, fashioning a soft mound of sorts. Stepping back from the bed, he raised a brow and pointed to the impromptu stack and spoke in a slightly gentler tone.

"Put your bag down on the floor and lie face down on the bed then, hips on the pillows."

The tentative hold she'd held on her tears shattered.

Her cheeks glistened under the downpour of hot saline. Sighing, Gibbs relented a little and moved towards her. Tucking the belt under his left arm, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. He was completely unused to being so hard on her, but she really had brought it on herself, not that that made it any easier. He took a deep breath and spoke softly.

"Listen to me. I know this is hard and I know you're scared. I know I'm angry, extremely angry, but I'm also in complete control. I would never discipline you when I thought I wasn't in a place where I could be fair. This is going to hurt, it's going to hurt a lot. I'm not gonna lie and say that it won't. But you've had this coming for a long, long time and it's about time that you were taught a lesson that you can't simply forget when you feel like going out and having fun with your friends. Can you understand that?"

With tears flowing ever more freely, she managed a strangled nod.

"Good," he murmured quietly. "And the same rules apply to this as to anything else. When it's done, it's done and it's back to a clean slate. You know I don't hold grudges and you know that no matter how badly you, or any of you, step out of line… I'm always gonna be there to pull you back onside."

He reached out, despite himself, and brushed away a pooling tear.

"Don't you?"

Reaching up to grab onto his hand and burying her face into it's broad warmth, her dark head bobbed up and down as she gulped her acquiescence. Knowing that she wasn't in a position to do it herself, Gibbs draped an arm around her small shoulders and steered her towards the bed, beginning to feel dread encase his small intestine. As hard as he'd appeared, his heart was breaking. It was bad enough to use the belt on the boys, but _Abby…_ it wasn't something he'd ever countenanced. But he couldn't deny that it was the only option left to him, she'd pushed him to the pin of his collar.

It was finally and irrevocably, time.

She didn't fight him as he gently corralled her into lying down upon the bed, supressing a sad sigh as she buried her face into the blanket, bunching her hands into the soft fabric and stiffening up like a plank. Hesitating for just a moment, he reached down and lifted up the hem of her skirt and tucked it into the waistband, effectively exposing her panty-clad behind. Hesitating for another moment, he decided against divesting her of her underwear. What was coming would be hard and new enough and he rather she had her modesty to help deal with it.

Picking up the belt yet again, he flinched at the heavy and cold weight of it.

But he had a job to do, so he grit his teeth together, and resolved to get on with it.

"This spanking is for sneaking out of the house when you knew full well you were grounded and blasting what little trust I had left in you in the process. Not only are you going to have an extremely red and sore behind at the end of this licking, but your grounding is reverting back to ground zero and your privileges are reverting back to the stone age. It's going to be a long, long time before life as you knew it becomes life as you know it and you're going to wind up right back here if you try anything of this stupidity again. Is that clear?"

Shuddering slightly, she nodded into the blanket with a muffled sob.

His heart trembled.

Knowing it'd be cruel to draw the whole ordeal out, he stooped down ever so slightly and placed the familiar warm hand on the small of her back and readied himself. Gripping the belt tightly in his hand, ensuring the buckle was securely tucked away, he flexed the strap and raised a reluctant arm.

The first crack sliced the air like a machete.

All was silent for a reverberating moment, before her ear-splitting shriek pierced his ears and his soul. The stinging pain was unlike anything she or her scantily clad bottom had ever experienced before. Her skin seemed to sizzle in a straight, thick line as the leather did its job and imprinted upon prone cheeks. Forcing himself to ignore her stunned squawk and tightening his hold on her squirming back, he drew the belt back up once more before bringing it down in an unyielding lick. This time, her cry of pain was not so shrill, but she jolted under his hand with vigour.

By the time the fourth and fifth stokes landed, she was openly sobbing.

And rapidly learning that the thoughts she had held about Gibbs' hand being the hardest object in the world were entirely unfounded. Her backside was an inferno, it burned so hot it was an energy source all of its own. And just when she thought she couldn't take any more, bear any more, he seemed to up the ante and bring the devilish leather down with stoke after stroke in a swift succession from the top of her burning butt, right down to the sit spots of her tender thighs.

When the last, skin searing lick landed, she was utterly empty.

Too tired to cry, too sore to sob.

Vaguely, she registered his voice above her, speaking softly.

"I want you to remember how you're feeling right now, Abby. I want you to remember it the next time you think about doing what you did tonight. And I want you to think about the fact that, if I ever have to do this again, it's going to be on your bare behind and it's not just going to be the once. Do you understand me?"

Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, she nodded.

And then, before she knew it, her skirt had been softly pulled down and she was lifted into his arms. There was an old-fashioned rocking chair in the corner of the room, the one that Shannon had so often rocked a restless Kelly to sleep in. Settling down in the creaking wooden seat, Gibbs held a tear-stained and agony-ridden Abby close to his chest, wiping away the last of her tears with a broad thumb. She was exhausted, completely and utterly, exhausted. Nuzzling into his chest and holding onto his shirt for dear life, she croaked out a quiet question.

"Gibbs?"

Pressing a kiss into her dark and tangled mop of hair, he replied softly.

"Yeah, Abbs?"

Looking up at him with shimmering eyes, she spoke quietly.

"Do you forgive me?"

Smiling adoringly down at her, he nodded without a nanosecond of doubt.

"Always."

….

A/N: Again, thank you for your patience for the lengthy gap between updates. I get rare bouts of NCIS fever and when I do, chapters are the result. Hopefully the next bout won't be so far away!

Lots of love!

Inks x

…


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